Circumstances
by PulvisEtUmbra
Summary: Jace finds Clary in a mess after a bad break up, and vows to help her through it. He struggles with his own feelings for her as their friendship blooms into something more, but is Clary too broken to see him clearly? Slightly OOC, mentions of abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Jace POV

She was in the training room when I finally found her, beating the crap out of a punching bag making these little sounds of exhaustion that were as cute as they were genuine. I admired her long limbs as she threw them out from her body with the utmost control, while her golden hair blew behind her in its typical French braid. Clary was too preoccupied to notice me in the doorway, and I didn't want to startle her.

"Bad day?" I said loudly, smirking. I instantly regretted the sarcasm when she turned to me. The tears glittered on her cheeks as her eyes fixed on mine in an expression of pure heart break. "Oh, Clary, what's happened?" I go to her, pulling her hands away from her eyes as she tries to rub the tears away. As she begins to speak, her expression morphs into fury.

"Sebastian. He's been sleeping with Camille this entire time. Our entire fucking relationship! All a lie. They were in my goddamn bed and I, I…" Clary breaks off, looking down as her eyes fill again. I feel as if all her fury has flowed into me with her words. I drop her hands for fear of hurting her accidentally and lash out at the punchbag myself.

"For fuck's sake! How could he do that to you, how could anyone do that to you! Do they not see what they have?" The words are spilling out of my mouth and I'm widely gesturing towards Clary, who looks a little taken aback, but I can't seem to stop. "You are a fucking angel, and he gave you up for a twisted little downworld slut." She looks at me in horror. "Oh god, dammit I'm sorry Clary I know I can't be helping. Fuck!" I punch the bag one last time, so hard that the frame rattles. With a few deep breaths I regain my composure, thinking of each rune on my body, its position and its meaning. It's a routine I have whenever my anger gets the better of me. I listen to Clary's shallow breathing behind me as she comes closer.

"You are helping, Jace." She says in a tiny voice. "Watching you, it was kinda like you were getting all my anger out for me," Clary muses, "and if you did want to help, there's a massive favour you might be able to do for me?" She phrases it as a question, her voice trailing off at the end, as if she's worried I'll say no. As if I would, as if I could!

"Anything, Clary, anything at all."

"Well, when I found them I stormed out the apartment, but all of my things are still there, and I would just really appreciate it if someone could help me pack everything up and take it wherever the hell I'm going to go next. God, I didn't even think about where I'm going to take everything, there isn't room for me here and I wouldn't like it anyway. I don't want to inconvenience you, it's just, well, with help I can get it done faster, and don't really want to run into Seb, you know? And I might need the moral support." Clary grimaces, but it doesn't suit her elegant features.

"Of course!" I answer, maybe too quickly, because she looks up at me, surprised. Before I can help it, the words I have been thinking for the last minute tumble out of my mouth. "You could stay with me? My apartment is close to the institute, there's a second bedroom and we wouldn't have to share a bathroom. I understand if you don't want to, I just want to help." This time it's my voice that trails off, and I look awkwardly at the floor. Clary is the only girl, hell the only person, around whom I have ever experienced awkwardness. With everyone else witty comments, sarcasm and deflection from topics too deep for my liking always come naturally, but whenever I'm around Clary my mouth seems to cease all communications with my brain.

Clary is looking at me with a strange expression, an uncomfortable mix between gratitude and wariness. "Are you sure?" she says slowly, "I promise not to be any trouble, and I'll cook for you to make up for it? Anyone who grew up in the same house as Izzy must surely appreciate a good cook." Clary attempts to smile, but her face doesn't really cooperate. Her joke has the desired effect though, because I relax and smile back, what I hope is a warm, comforting smile.

"Clary, what was it Alec said? 'I've known this girl five days and she's already more trouble than she's worth'? _You_ aren't trouble, per se, it just finds you! But now it will find me too, and I'll kick its ass." She grins reluctantly. "What time did you want to go get your things?"

"As soon as possible really," Clary smiles apologetically, "I don't want to be there when Seb gets home from work." The smile fades almost painfully, and I have another rush of my earlier anger, the desire to beat his 'I'm too good for you' face in fighting to break through my barriers of control.

Before the anger can surge again, I attempt a bright smile. "Well, I don't have any plans. Let's get this out of the way, and we'll have a nice, chill evening." Before Clary can hesitate, because I can sense she's about to ask me if I'm sure again, I take her by the arm and lead her from the training room.

We were at her apartment in 10 minutes flat. I'd only been in there once and I looked around curiously, trying to gather any possible information about Clary's personal life, which she keeps so well hidden, well, from me at least. In my opinion, the apartment is bland, boring. White walls, furniture, plain wooden floors. No colour and no mess. When we reached the bedroom, I hesitated at the door. I can't stand the sight of the bed, the bed where Clary has lain with Sebastian, and now where Sebastian has lain with Camille. I could see Clary blanching too, so determinedly I pulled her into the room with me, and helped her reach the bags on top of the wardrobe. I didn't mention the tears that were streaming down her cheeks as she threw clothes into the suitcases.

In less than an hour, all of Clary's belongings were loaded into my car. I had tried to convince her to play some kind of mean trick on Sebastian in an attempt to cheer her up, but she just looked exasperated and I realised she just wanted to get out. Leave him behind forever. Well, it's his loss. The spare bedroom in my apartment is a nice size, with a huge bed. Clary flopped down when we got there, sprawled on her back and surrounded by her bags. The bed dwarfed her, like a tiny puppy sleeping on a dog's bed. I offered to help her unpack but she politely asked for some space, and although I didn't want to leave her, I closed the door behind me and made sure the spare bathroom was stocked up with all the appropriate commodities. Realising I didn't have any decent food in the house, I scrawled a quick note to Clary saying that I had just popped to the shops, and I wouldn't be long.

I came back with a variety of food, but I bought a couple of Clary's favourites, hoping she could give me a good recipe. She was already in the kitchen. She had made me a cup of tea, and was staring into the bare fridge with her hands on her hips. I held up the bags in offering, and she smiled, relieved.

"I did wonder what we were going to eat! Not the most exciting selection in here." Though her eyes were red from crying, her voice sounded upbeat and positive, and I hoped that I could provide a decent distraction for the rest of the evening.

"I bought a couple of things you've mentioned you like, if you could point me in the right direction as to what to do with them? I can cook, you really don't have to-" Clary cut me off.

"Hey, I said I would, didn't I? I'm a good cook, promise." She made a cross across her heart, and the childish gesture made me grin.

"Okay, take it away, boss!" I leaned back against the counter, sipping my tea and watching her work, pointing out which cupboards contained which things. Clary made steak stir fry, the delicious aroma filling my living area. I did have a dining table, but I usually ate on the sofa and the table was all cluttered up with books, so we watched TV while we ate. Clary giggled occasionally at Brooklyn 99, and I was glad of her good mood. My plan was to keep the distractions up until she was worn out, so that she could go straight to sleep. I knew how painful it would be lying awake, overthinking every word Sebastian had said, every action.

When we had finished eating, I insisted that dessert was my job, and told her to put on a movie. After thoroughly judging my DVD collection, she put on a silly comedy, and curled herself into a tiny ball on one side of the sofa. I had bought all the right things at the store, ice cream, chocolate-covered strawberries, all the sorts of things girls eat in movies when they're sad. I didn't know if real life girls did this too – I didn't have a whole lot of experience with the emotional side of girls – but all the food sounded good to me. I returned with bowls upon bowls of sweet treats, and Clary gaped at me.

"Wow, you really went the whole nine yards, I'm guessing you took inspiration from some of those awful DVDs you've got down there." She smirked, and I blushed a little and handed her a bowl as a peace offering. She grinned at dug in, moaning through her mouth-full of ice cream. "You did good, Jace, thanks." Clary's smile was genuinely grateful and warm as she looked over at me, and that made it all worthwhile.

After we were full to busting with dessert, and Clary was shivering from all the ice cream, I threw her a blanket to wrap herself in while we finished the film. Her earlier happiness seemed to have waned, and I wanted so badly to pull her tiny body into my arms, rub her back and kiss her hair, soothe her. But Clary remained curled up at the other end of the sofa, and I didn't want to move over to her and make her uncomfortable. Mostly, I was worried she would think I was making a move on her, since she is familiar, as is everyone else at the institute, with my reputation. I was angry at myself for a moment, for having that reputation. It wasn't that I didn't want Clary that way, God, I did, and I always had, but right now I just wanted to be there for her, nothing more. She noticed me watching her and turned to me, looking embarrassed. I realised she was crying again, tears soaking the blanket she had pulled around her chin.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled through her sobs, which were louder now that she wasn't trying to hide, "I'm such a mess, don't worry, I'll leave you alone." She sounded so defeated that my breath caught in my throat.

"Clary, wait," I caught her arm as she went past me, "I just want to help you, if you want to be alone then go, but if there's anything I can do-" all of a sudden she was in my arms. I pulled her closer, she was holding me tightly, arms around my neck like a lifeline as she sobbed into my shoulder. I stroked my hands firmly up and down her back, smoothing her hair. I wished that I knew what to say, but there were no words for what she had to be feeling. Clary and I were close, even if we didn't spend much time together out of the institute, since Sebastian hadn't liked that, especially if it was just her and I. I knew that Clary, for some unknown reason, had very little self-confidence, and I afraid that this had knocked her back even further. She felt vulnerable in my arms, small as she was. She always surprised me in training, for she was so strong for her size. I had to remind myself every time that I didn't need to be as gentle with her as I thought, she could hold her own against me easily. Of course, it didn't help that whenever I was fighting with her, I was fighting my own internal battle too. A battle between the parts of my brain that wanted to admire her toned stomach, wanted to watch the muscles move beneath her back and in her strong legs. The parts of my brain that were really, desperately trying not to stare at that _perfect_ butt. I promise, they were trying. But most of the time they failed, I got distracted, and the parts of my brain that were trying to anticipate Clary's next move, trying to evade and get the upper hand, would sigh in exasperation as I got my ass kicked by a girl a foot shorter than me.

Belatedly, I realised Clary was talking to me. "Your shirt's all wet," she said guiltily, the sobs almost subsided now, "I'm really sorry, I sort of attacked you." She wouldn't look at me as she moved out of my lap to sit beside me, staring at her hands in her lap.

"It doesn't bother me Clary," this was a lie, I hated seeing her like this, "I will do anything to help you, I mean it, I hate that you're hurting." I hadn't really meant to say this last part, and Clary looked at me with some surprise, unused to me showing emotions so strongly.

In a tiny voice she spoke again, and I had to concentrate to hear her. "You are helping, I really needed that, to be…" she hesitated, glancing away again, "to be held. I needed to fall apart, but I needed you to hold me together while I did." She smiled shyly, and I wanted to tell her I would hold her every night if I could, but I didn't think that would be taken the right way. "I'm going to go to bed now, thank you so much for letting me stay here, really, I don't know where I would have gone."

"It's not a problem, Clary. I think I might enjoy the company, and especially the cooking." I winked at her, and she giggled a little, before standing up, wearing the blanket like a cape. She didn't move for a second, then slowly, as if her body was unsure of the movements, she bent and kissed me on the cheek. "Sleep well, Jace," she murmured as she walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

I did not sleep well. All night, my thoughts were full of Clary. I was worried she was in the other room crying, or just lying awake, torturing herself with thoughts. I knew there was nothing I could realistically do about this. I couldn't spend every hour with her, but that didn't mean I couldn't hate it. There was another tone to my thoughts too. While not the most prominent idea at the moment, I still could not quite handle that Clary was in my house. She would be _living_ here, sleeping, showering. Inappropriate questions swam through my head. Did she wear pyjamas, if so what kind? Did she sing in the shower? The most unwelcome of these was what if she brings guys back here? I couldn't refuse her the right, but at the same time the thought of having to hear her with them brought the acidic taste of vomit to my mouth and throat. My room was beside hers, the headboards of our beds back to back either side of the wall. She was so close, and yet I couldn't touch her. When I finally slept, my dreams were bursts of vivid reality, Clary dancing, crying, fighting.

One of my questions was answered the next morning. I woke groggily, pulling on boxers and walking out into the hall before remembering that Clary probably did not want to be greeted with that sight, even if I thought I looked pretty good without my clothes. After dressing, I wandered to the kitchen to throw together a haphazard breakfast. While the bacon sizzled, I heard Clary go into the bathroom and start the shower. I was in the middle of wondering if I had left enough towels in there when I heard noise come from the bathroom. For an instant I thought she was crying, but the noise was too tuneful. Clary was singing, only quietly, but I could still recognise the gentle tune of the Maroon 5 song. Her voice was wonderful, more beautiful than a whole orchestra, more natural than a bird's song. Enchanted, I stopped my cooking to listen, broken out of the spell when the fire alarm went off because the bacon was burning. Clary ran into the kitchen, soaked and wrapped in a towel, a panicked look on her face.

"Is everything alright? The fire alarm…" she eyed the black bacon, "ah, I see. Are you really that bad a cook?" she smirked at me, and I made a wounded face, placing my hand on my heart in mock pain. Clary laughed, throwing her head back. I watched as a few drops of water trailed down the side of her neck, teasingly crawling towards the top edge of the towel. I think I may have licked my lips. Clary flushed when she saw me staring, seeming to remember she wasn't dressed, and muttering apologies she hurried back to the bathroom. I blinked a couple of times before remembering the breakfast I was supposed to be making. I had something to prove now, and I was determined to make the best fry up Clary had ever eaten. I was glad it was a Saturday, neither of us had any need to be anywhere, and I was trying to think up something fun we could do today when Clary re-emerged. _Oh Jace, what have you gotten yourself into?_ My internal monologue groaned. Clary was wearing tiny, floppy shorts that barely covered the perfect curve of her ass, and a tight tank top that showed her cleavage as she bent over to pull her half-dry hair into a messy knot. I dropped the spatula with a clang and bent quickly to pick it up, not wanting to give her another reason to doubt my skills in the kitchen.

Clary grabbed the cup of tea I'd left on the side, throwing me a grateful look, and went to move some of the books to one side of the table before setting out the cutlery and sauces. With great effort, I returned my attention to finishing the breakfast, taking the plates to the table before I realised she was no longer sitting there. Instead, Clary was staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of the open-plan living area, admiring the view that wouldn't have been so obvious in the dark yesterday night.

"Wow, this is amazing! I could look all day, just watch the world go by." Her voice had a dreamy quality about it, and I remembered that for an artist like her, a view like that must be a form of porn.

"You can look later, but I slaved over this breakfast and it's going to get cold." I tried to sound stern, but when she raised an eyebrow at me I couldn't help but grin. We ate in silence, apart from Clary groaning her appreciation at the now perfectly cooked bacon. I was delighted with how relaxed she seemed around me, since I had worried last night that she would feel awkward after breaking down on me. I decided not to mention her singing, because I knew her too well, and if I commented, she would get all embarrassed and I wouldn't get to hear her again.

"What do you want to do today then? The weather is nice, so I wondered if you wanted to go out somewhere?" my voice phrased the question with an unwanted shyness, but Clary smiled happily.

"Could we go to Central Park? There's this place Simon and I used to go as children to talk when we had gossip to share, I was thinking I might do some drawing, so you don't have to come if you'll be bored." She added the last part glumly, but I was quick to reassure her.

"I'd love that, and hey, what could be more beautiful to draw than me?" Clary rolled her eyes, smacking at my arm as she took the plates back to the kitchen.

When she was ready to go, the two of us made the short journey to the park in comfortable silence, Clary gazing wistfully into some of the shop windows as we passed. She took me to hers and Simon's spot, a secluded little space hidden by the low hanging branches of trees, with a large rock in the middle to sit on. Clary clambered up onto the rock with the ease of someone who had done it many times, but I looked sceptically and the smoothness, wondering how to get a footing. Laughing, Clary helped me up, leaning her head on my shoulder as we sat side by side in the sun.

"You said that you and Simon used to come here to talk, is that what you want to do?" I spoke slowly, unsure if she would want to talk to me the way she would with Simon.

"Sure, what else were you thinking?" Truthfully, I was thinking about kissing her, thinking that this was the perfect little romantic spot for it, but I just shrugged.

"Okay, you talk, I'll listen." Clary smiled, sighed, and began to talk. She was telling me the story of her whole relationship with Sebastian, I realised, and while I didn't really understand how this was helping, I listened as promised. After a few minutes, she climbed down from the rock, still talking, and sat on the grass with her sketchbook, drawing absentmindedly. When her story reached the later period of their relationship, I found out many things about Sebastian I hadn't known, even if they didn't really surprise me. She told me how possessive he was, which I had known about to some extent, but it turned out that I didn't really know what Clary had been going through. She was explaining their first big fight, which stemmed from her coming home smelling of my deodorant after she borrowed it, when, calmly as anything, she told he that he had hit her. I made a sound like a choked gasp, my heart racing as adrenaline flooded through my body. Clary looked up at me in surprise, as if she had not expected that reaction. I felt as though my blood was boiling, setting my limbs on fire one by one.

"Jace, Earth to Jace!" Clary was saying, "calm down." I felt her hand on my knee, rubbing her thumb back and forth. Taking a deep breath, I focused on my runes carefully until my heart rate was under control. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry. I guess because I get hit all the time in training, I never really thought of Seb hitting me as a big deal." She shrugged like it was nothing, which sent another flame of anger through me, but I fought it off.

"I'm sorry I lost it," I growled out, "I just can't believe anyone would do that, and I _can't stand_ the thought of anyone doing that to you." The corners of Clary's mouth turned up in a shy smile before she carried on. She disclosed that after the first slap, she had refused to sleep with him, even when he tried to force her. She had known their relationship was falling apart, but didn't have the courage to end it. She even said she was almost thankful that she saw him with Camille, since it gave her the trigger she needed to get the hell out. I had to smile at that, it was just so Clary - get up, get moving.

Clary went quiet after the reverie was over and focused on her drawing. She became so absorbed that I was sure I could be fighting a demon on top of the rock and she wouldn't have noticed. I watched her face as she concentrated, brows slightly furrowed, chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, she beamed down at the paper and stood, looking at me hopefully.

"Well, can I see?" I grinned, knowing these were the words she had wanted to hear. Wordlessly, she handed me the sketchbook. A handsome man stared up at me, his face was all hard angles, but she had managed to make his eyes and lips look soft, loving. He was cross-legged on top of the rock he sat on, and I realised with a jolt that the man was me. I stared in fascination, looking at myself through Clary's eyes. While I now noticed the man was recognisably me, he still looked different from what I saw in the mirror. He was beautiful, with a face that held a depth I didn't think I possessed. His arms were hard muscle, with broad shoulders that somehow looked relaxed, even in a drawing, and his T-shirt looked soft to touch. I realised what the greatest difference between the two forms of myself was – the man in the picture was just that – a man. In many ways, I still considered myself a boy, though I was 21. It wasn't that the picture version of me looked any older, he just looked mature, strong, balanced. "Clary," I murmured, "this is incredible. This, _this_ is what you see when you look at me?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course," she replied quietly, studying my face as I studied the paper, "I think I depicted you rather well." I smiled at her proud voice.

"You flatter me." Clary laughed gently, closing the sketchbook and climbing back up beside me, lying back against the warm stone. I lay back with her, our shoulders touching, and gazed into the endless blue above me.

After some unknown length of time, Clary sighed. "Isabelle convinced me to go clubbing with her tonight." She didn't sound particularly excited about it. "She said it'll help my confidence to get all dressed up and have guys hit on me, but I don't have anything to wear." My mind flicked back to the dress she had stared at in the window of one of the shops we had passed, and I hoped that it wasn't too expensive and I could buy it for her.

"I'm sure we can find something, we have all afternoon after all." I tried to smile encouragingly, but truthfully I was not enjoying the thought of her going out looking stunning, just to be gawked at by unworthy men. "I'm sure you'll have fun, especially after a couple of drinks." I glanced at her, gaging her reaction.

"I'm, uhh, not really a big drinker, Jace, you know that." Clary smiled ruefully, and I nudged her sideways with my shoulder.

"No fun," I murmured, and she smacked me gently, giggling. I hopped down off the rock, picking up her bag and beckoning for her to follow me. "I have an idea," I was grinning manically at her, and she laughed, shaking her head in apprehension of whatever I had in mind. I led her back the way we had come, and convinced her to wait in the queue at the ice cream shop while I went to get something I needed. As quickly as I could, I located the shop from earlier and asked one of the girls to find the dress for me. The shop assistant looked at me curiously, trying to gage whether it was for a girlfriend, I supposed, since the smile she had presented me with at first had been much more than friendly. The dress was a sort of dark gold, silky looking thing with lots of straps at the back. It looked confusing to me, but the fabric was nice to touch and Clary had loved it earlier. It wasn't expensive, so with a little help I selected the right size and bought it.

Clary was sitting outside when I found her, eyes closed and face turned up to the sun, ice cream in hand. She had one for me as well, but it seemed as though she had forgotten all about them since both were melting down, dripping onto her bare thighs. I tried not to think about licking the sugary syrup off her warm skin.

"Earth to Clary," I repeated her words from earlier, and she jumped, smiling until she realised she was covered in ice cream. "Got a little distracted, did we?" I smirked at her, and she tried to scoop up most of the melted ice cream with a finger, which she sucked into her mouth. I shivered, trying to shake off the hoard of mental images swimming in the forefront of my brain. Taking my ice cream from her, I traded it for the bag I held. Clary's brow furrowed, and she finished off the last of her ice cream before opening the bag slightly.

"Is this for me?" She looked so perplexed that I laughed loudly.

"Yes, idiot, open it." She did, but only after giving me an adorable, and not in the least bit threatening, glare.

"Oh, Jace! You didn't have to do that, I'm surprised you even noticed me looking at it." Clary was smiling ecstatically, smoothing her hands over the soft, fine fabric.

"Well, you said you didn't have anything to wear, and I did practically have to drag you away from the shop window earlier, so I figured it could be a 'new you' thing, like girls do in movies after breakups. Only this is better than a dramatic haircut, don't cut all your hair off." I was rambling, I knew, but I couldn't seem to stop, what with her grinning at me like that.

"Thank you, Jace, truly, you're amazing." Her voice was filled with warmth, soft as the fabric in her hands. She leaned across the table and kissed my cheek again, lips leaving a tingly trail on my skin. "Come on, let's go home so I can get ready, Isabelle will never forgive me if I'm late." Clary looked genuinely worried, and I snorted but stood up, letting her pull me along by the arm.


	3. Chapter 3

I was catching up on the Formula 1 qualifying from earlier in the day, cold beer in hand, feeling pretty pleased with myself when Clary finally emerged from her bedroom. The beer bottle began to slip through my fingers, but I caught it instinctively without taking my eyes off her. The gold dress was just a shade darker than her golden hair, which she had left natural, big curls tumbling around her face. The dress was fitted, but not tight, and it floated around her body, looser around her tiny waist, and tighter around her curved hips and bum. She pivoted for me, and I saw that all the straps at the back of the dress meant that she was not wearing a bra. Angels, help me, I almost didn't want to look further down, to where her long, toned legs were exposed by a slit in the side of the dress, which only hung to midthigh anyway. Her legs finally ended in pretty black shoes with a deadly heel, which might have brought her up to an almost average height. When she finished her twirl and was facing me again, I dragged my eyes back up to her face, lingering on her legs and chest before I managed to make eye contact. Her nipples had hardened slightly in the cool air of the apartment, and the little peaks were easily visible through the thin material of the dress. I sucked in a much-needed breath, realising I had been totally still this entire time.

Clary was looking at my face, rapt, and I wondered if she was waiting for my approval, but then she spoke in a soft, sexy voice I had never heard her use before. "See something you like, Jonathan?" she drew out the words, but I was too mesmerised to tell her off for using my full name.

"You look _mouth-watering,"_ I managed to gasp, "I'm not sure it's safe to let you out the house, really. You might cause traffic accidents." Clary laughed, shaking her hair back over her shoulders, and came to sit by me on the sofa. She folded one leg over the other elegantly, causing her dress to slip up and reveal a few more precious inches of beautiful skin. I remembered that staring was rude, and tried to focus on the TV screen, but my mind was still transfixed by the incredible creature less than a foot from me. As my mind began to wander to ever-more inappropriate places, the doorbell rang, and Clary jumped up to answer. Even Isabelle did a double take when she saw Clary.

"My, my, you clean up well, Clarissa!" Clary stuck her tongue out at the other girl, who was wearing her standard get-up – overtly sexy thigh-high boots and a short skirt. The two girls could not have been more different. Clary was all fair gold, while Isabelle's olive skin was complimented by her dark hair and clothes. They made quite the pair, and I felt sorry for all the men in whatever establishment they ended up in tonight. Neither of these girls was remotely attainable, and I pitied the fool who tried. I passed Clary her little clutch bag, and bent my head to kiss her cheek this time, murmuring a standard and unnecessary warning to be careful in her ear. She shivered a little as my breath tickled her ear, and she wore a strange expression when I pulled back to look at her. It was gone quick as a flash, and she smiled at me before taking Isabelle's hand.

Although I tried to keep myself occupied for the rest of the evening, I was unjustly worried about Clary. I didn't think she had ever really been clubbing, at least for a good time, since we had been to multiple clubs to seek out demons, and I wasn't sure she was prepared for the amount of attention she would undoubtedly receive. I knew deep down that she was more than able to defend herself, but I still wanted to be there with her, stopping any unwanted hands before she could even feel them. I went for a run, and worked out until my muscles screamed. I sagged down onto the sofa after my shower, exhausted and hot. I was glad to be alone in the apartment again, as trousers would have been far too hot right now, and I sprawled across the sofa in my boxers, putting the sports channel on.

I woke to the familiar high-pitched giggles and the room being flooded with light. Groaning, I sat up, rubbing my eyes and looking around blearily. I found the two girls just in time to see Isabelle kiss Clary goodnight, more than a peck, but not a full-on kiss either. I blinked at them stupidly, was I dreaming? Isabelle glanced my way, winked at Clary, and left, closing the door behind her. Clary looked at me, but her eyes seemed to take too long to recognise what she was seeing. She smiled crookedly and began to wobble towards me on the ridiculously high shoes. Finally coming to my senses, I jumped to my feet and went to steady her.

"Well, looks like you had a pretty good time tonight, huh?" Clary nodded, covering a yawn with her hand as I helped her to the sofa. She flopped down, pulling off her heels and curling up with her head on my lap. I wasn't really sure what to do now, having never really been with a girl who cuddled up to me (they usually weren't around long enough for the cuddling part), so I stroked her hair gently, revelling in the softness, and the gentle citrus smell of her shampoo. She said nothing, and after a few minutes her breathing was deep and even, she was asleep. How could this one girl be so cute, so sexy, and so goddamn lovely at the same time? Moving gently, I scooped Clary up into my arms, her head resting against my chest, and carried her to her room, tucking her in and kissing her forehead. I had to fight the urge to stay with her, and I dragged my feet, walking backwards as I left for my own bedroom.

Clary was surprisingly with it in the morning, with breakfast already on the table when I pulled my lazy ass out of bed. My muscles felt like white hot fire with every step, and I knew I shouldn't have pushed myself so hard yesterday. She looked at me apologetically.

"I'm so sorry I got so drunk last night, I don't know how I made it all the way to bed, I was exhausted!" I smiled slyly.

"You didn't. You fell asleep on my lap on the sofa, and I carried you to bed." Clary blushed heavily and looked down at her bowl of cereal. "Hey, I didn't mind! I was glad you'd had such a good time." A wicked plan popped into my head. "And you definitely paid me back for it." I gave her the sexiest smile I could manage, pleased when her breath caught in her throat.

"What?" Clary spoke the word shakily, barely a whisper.

"Really, I'm just glad I woke up in time to see it." I carried on matter-of-factly, crunching the coco-pops happily. Clary groaned, hands covering her face.

"What did I do, Jace, please," She moaned. It was my turn to be caught off guard, because my name along with the word please was doing odd things to my body.

"I'm just teasing, Angel. You didn't really do anything, but when you and Isabelle said goodnight, the two of you kissed. I thought I was having a wet dream." I leered at Clary, which had the desired effect of making her blush and giggle.

"Of course we did," she exclaimed, "Isabelle is very touchy feely when she's drunk, she quite often kisses me." I tried to keep my mouth from falling open, concentrating hard on chewing and swallowing.

"Next time you two go out, I am _definitely_ coming along."

"Perv," Clary shot back, and I winked at her. "Actually, while we're on that topic-" I choked on my tea and Clary laughed, "All I was going to say was, does your en-suite have a bath? And if so, may I use it after I go for a run later?" I sighed in relief, having been worried that I was about to be scolded for gawking at her in the towel yesterday morning.

"Yes, it's an awesome bath actually, jets and everything, of course you can use it, on one condition." Clary raised one eyebrow for me to continue. "Instead of running, come to the Institute with me and train? I won't go hard on you, I ache from yesterday." She thought for a moment and nodded her agreement.

"Can we go kind of soon, I wanted to chill out this evening." I agreed happily, thinking that sounded perfect, and went to get dressed.

To put less strain on me, Clary and trained in hand to hand combat today, something I was very glad for, since her anger over Sebastian had clearly not subsided, and giving her anything sharp did not seem advisable. She wrestled fearlessly with me, once or twice having to stop before she actually hurt me, blurting out frantic apologies each time. When we decided we were on our last round, I threw all my remaining energy into it. I thought I had her pinned from behind, but effortlessly she flipped me over her shoulder onto my back, and before I could even blink she was sitting on me, my hands pinned over my head and my legs clamped together between hers. Clary was smiling proudly, chest heaving and sweat curling the hairs that had escaped her plait. Almost like I had been last night, I was mesmerised by her. There was a different undertone this time, though, what with our compromising position, and the way the silence of the deserted Institute seemed to shout at us that we were alone. I could feel the heat behind my eyes as I looked at her, and when our eyes met there were flames in her blue eyes too, but she looked away, flushed, and climbed off me.

"Let's go home, I need that bath." Clary's voice was uneven, and I wondered if she was about to cry. She hid her face from me, and without thinking I pulled her into my arms instinctively. I could feel the wetness soak my shirt where her face was pressed to me, so I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, marvelling about how perfectly she fit against my body, and began to hum the first tune that came into my head. After a few minutes, she began to relax and she pulled her face away from my chest. "That song," she said slowly, "I was singing it in the shower yesterday! Did you hear me?" I froze, worried I was about to send her into a melt down, I hadn't realised it was the same song. To my relief, she burst out laughing, a fit of hysterics rocking her tiny body.

"By the Angel, I forgot that I sang in the shower! Seb used to like it, actually." Clary finished, almost thoughtfully. Urgent to distract her, I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding.

"I liked it too, very much. You have a lovely voice." She looked surprised but pleased, and hesitated for a moment before gently singing "I may not make it through the night, but I won't go home without you."

"We better get going then, before it gets dark." I took her hand, and she rolled her eyes at my terrible joke, but kept her hand in mine.


End file.
